


Everyone tells Jason to go to the psychiatrist, well almost everyone.

by smile_it_will_get_better



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Electroconvulsive Therapy, Hurt No Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Whizzer Brown Deserves Better, Whizzer doesn't tell Jason to go see Mendel, conversion therapy hinted at, in the past, it kind of sucks but the idea has been stuck in my head
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-10-31 09:48:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17847119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smile_it_will_get_better/pseuds/smile_it_will_get_better
Summary: “Whizzer, can you please come down and talk to Jason quickly? He wants to talk with you.” Trina said, sounding vaguely worried and annoyed.Whizzer was up in a moment, pulling on his jacket as he replied. “Of course. I'll be right there.”...What if Whizzer didn't tell Jason to see a psychiatrist? What if there was a reason that left him unable to convince a young child into going to therapy that he clearly didn't want?Just really a small idea that had been burning in my mind so I wrote it down, might add more on later.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a while ago, and I wasn't going to post it but I thought what the hell. But basically, Conversion therapy was on the rise around the time Whizzer and Marvin were raised, so what if Whizzer attended some form of Conversion therapy? How would that affect his character and how he reacts to Jason asking him personally if he should see a psychiatrist? I wrote this late at night and I might re write it soon because I didn't quite capture everything I wanted to, but oh well.

Whizzer was enjoying a nice quiet evening when the call came. Marvin was out at Trina’s and his next client wasn’t until the next day. So he decided to sit on the couch, watching stupid reruns until Marvin got home. 

And then the call came in, and Whizzer sighed before picking it up. 

“Hello?” he asked, slightly annoyed at his calm evening getting disrupted. 

“Whizzer, can you please come down and talk to Jason quickly? He wants to talk with you.” Trina said, sounding vaguely worried and annoyed. 

Whizzer was up in a moment, pulling on his jacket as he replied. “Of course. I'll be right there.”

Normally, if he had no plans he wouldn’t even think of going anywhere. But this was Jason. Whizzer always had a soft spot for the kid, and what if something was wrong?

The thought of either Jason, Marvin or Trina in danger had him hurrying. Making it to Trina’s house in record time. 

He knocked on the door, pushing down his anxiety. The kid was fine, probably just needed a break from his overbearing parents and wanted to talk to someone a little more reserved. Whizzer couldn't blame the kid. Sometimes Marvin and Trina could be a bit much. 

He knocked on the door, quickly entering when he heard Trina invite him in. He found them quickly, walking through the house until he entered the kitchen. 

Jason was sitting at the counter, looking smug and proud of himself. The sight made Whizzer smile. Marvin on the other hand, looked slightly angry and was glaring at Whizzer like he had done something. But then again his lover often looked like that. Trina was looking slightly worried, but mostly defeated and annoyed. 

All in all a normal day in their life.

“Whizzer?” Jason asked, and he knelt down beside the kid, raising his eyebrows in question. “Do you think I should see a psychiatrist?” 

Whizzer blinked, laughing uncertainty. A whisper of a memory curled in the back of his mind, causing his hands to clench every so slightly in phantom pain. 

“Oh, I don't know.” He started, trying to think of any reason to why the kid would need to in the first place. Something flicked the back of his head, hard, and Whizzer slightly turned to glare at Marvin. His lover gave him a look that clearly meant that both he and Trina wanted to kid to go. 

A look at Trina, who was staring at him pointedly proved the point. He turned back to Jason, knowing what he had to do. But the whisper of memory was back in his mind, causing him to hesitate. It was clear what Marvin and Trina wanted him to do, what they wanted him to say. But memories assaulting his mind didn't let him, held him back from saying what was expected of him.

“Look kid, I'm going to ask you a question. Do you truly think that there is something wrong with you? Something that makes you need to go see a psychiatrist?” He asked, staring the kid down.

Jason opened his mouth to answer but Marvin cut him off. 

“I don’t think-” He started, clearly trying to regain control of a situation Whizzer was taking out of his hands. 

“I was asking Jason, Marvin.” Whizzer said, not even bothering to look back to know the man was pissed. 

“I don’t think so.” The kid said quietly, glancing to his mom and dad before looking at Whizzer. Something inside him clenched painfully at the slight note of uncertainty in the kid’s voice. A note that reminded himself of a time when he was younger, the same feeling of uncertainty swirling in his own mind. Whizzer reached out, resting his hand on Jason’s. He knew the kid normally hated contact, but he didn’t pull away so Whizzer took that as permission. 

“Okay kid, here’s my one piece of good advice that I'll ever give.” He said with a soft smile. “Don’t let anyone force you into anything you don’t want to do. If you think there’s nothing wrong with you, then there isn’t. Therapy can help you if you want it to, but it's your choice buddy. No one can tell you what you need, not your mom, or your dad, or even me, we don’t know what you want. Only you can decide that for yourself.” 

Jason was staring at him in surprise, like he wasn’t expecting that answer from him. Whizzer quickly pulled back his hand, noticing that it was shaking slightly. He swallowed, avoiding looking at either Trina or Marvin, who were both likely more than annoyed at him. 

“Think it over kid. It's not an easy decision.” He said with a forced smile, ruffling the kids hair before pushing himself up and quickly leaving the room before they could all witness his breakdown. 

He managed to hold it together for a bit longer, opening the front door and gasping in a deep breath of fresh air. He didn’t even notice how the air inside the house was choking him until he exited it. He gasped in multiple deep breaths setting his heart rate and watching as his hands refused to stop this stupid shaking. It hadn't done this in years, he had long ago learned how to push the memories aside whenever the came close to the surface. But it was too late now, the memories were attacking him, sounds and sensations creeping up his spine. 

He heard the door behind his slam open, and he sighed, his hand resting on his door handle. 

“What the hell Whizzer?” Marvin cried out, and Whizzer turned forcing all his panic and emotions down deep inside where they should be. It wouldn't hold long, they were too close to ignore. To push down and build up walls around it like he normally did. 

“Is there a problem Marvin?” Whizzer asked, kind of hoping for a fight, something to distract himself with. 

“Yes there is, what was that back there?” Marvin asked, stopping a couple of feet in front of him. 

“Jason asked me a question. I answered it.” Whizzer replied, crossing his arms and clenching his hands into fists to get them to just behave, to stop shaking and betraying him like this. 

“Well you answered wrong, the kid needs help and you just pushed him away from that.” Marvin was raising his voice, his anger festering. 

“And how do you know what he needs?” Whizzer asked. 

“I'm his dad, of course I know what he needs.” Marvin scoffed, as if the very idea of him being wrong about this offended him. The idea of what MArvin was saying was stupid. Whizzer's dad sure as hell didn't know what was right for him, why did Marvin think he was all knowing just because he raised the kid?

“You might be his dad, but I'm his friend. And I have personal experience. You force him into this without his consent and you will destroy him.” Whizzer said, pointing his finger as his anger raised. “Let him make the decision Marvin, you owe him that much.” He whispered, the silence echoing around them.

Marvin watching him carefully, and Whizzer made sure that not a single emotion was let through onto his face. 

“So this is personal.” Marvin said and Whizzers facade fell slightly. 

Yeah, this was personal. Everything about this is personal. The question was personal, the answer was personal, there was no way he couldn't be personal in this situation. 

“Look, I don’t care about whatever bullshit that happened in your past. This is my family, my kid, I know what’s best. And you ruined that with your stupid advice. So keep your stupid sob story out of it.”

Whizzer paused for a moment, the bard settling down deep into his soul. He wasn’t in the wrong here. He couldn’t be, sure he might a bit bias, and from what he heard Mendel was a horrible psychiatrist in the first place. So there should be no problem with Jason going, but then again, the thought of someone so young getting forced into something they clearly didn’t want to do? It could ruin the kid, the beautiful, sarcastic and brilliant kid. 

It brought to much pain to the kid, Whizzer wasn’t bringing in his sob story, he just knew that as a fact. But he also knew that Marvin was right. 

He had no place here. He was an outsider, someone who ruined their family in the first place. Who was he to tell them what to do?

“Go back to your family Marvin.” Whizzer said firmly, all anger draining out of him. He was tired, memories he had long buried down pushing its way to the top and he just want to go home. To sleep and pretend this never happened. 

He dropped his arms from where they were crossed, running one over his face and smoothing back his hair. He met Marvin’s eyes in a final challenge, surprised to find that Marvin's anger appeared to be mostly gone. 

“Your hands are shaking.” Marvin pointed out, but there was no concern, only a mere observation. 

Whizzer grinned, but it felt forced, more of a sneer than any grin. “Particular nerves in my hands are permanently damaged after my ‘sob story of therapy’. Sometimes they shake, especially if the topic is brought up.” He hissed, curling his hands into fists to get them to stop. His fingernails dug into his hand, breaking through the skin. 

Marvin's face fell, but the win felt bittersweet, a hollow victory. 

“Whiz,” Marvin said softly, reaching out towards Whizzer. He must have seen something inside Whizzer’s eyes, because he stopped a moment after. Whizzer half hoped Marvin would reach out again, grab him and hold him and love him. But he couldn't, they couldn't. Love was a trap, something people were berated for, shocked and beat for. Love was a weakness, one WHizzer swore to never have.

“Go to your family Marvin.” Whizzer repeated his voice empty, ignoring the way Marvin was looking at him. If he thought about it he would give in, would reach out and accept the comfort Marvin wanted to give but didn’t know how. 

Marvin paused for a moment, stepping forwards for a second before turning and walking back inside. 

Whizzer ignored the way his heart fell, how he was half hoping that Marvin would go to him instead. 

He chose to instead get back into the car, starting it and quickly drive away despite his shaking hands. 

Marvin didn't come home for a good two hours, long after Whizzer had finished his downwards spiral and shoved his feeling deep down. Long after the tears dried and he drank enough tea that his sore throat he got from screaming didn't feel as raw.

Marvin told him that Jason decided to go to see Mendel after all, and Whizzer bit his tongue, plastered on a smile and said he was proud of the kid. Marvin then dragged him to the bedroom, voicing his apologies in kisses and passion. 

It wasn’t enough. Not now, not ever. They were heading to a dead-end, and Whizzer was already preparing to hit it head on. But for now he ignored all the warning signs pulsing in his mind and gave into Marvin, gave into the pleasure and tried to forget that anything even happened.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two! Here we have little Whizzer going to therapy and how he deals with it. I also head cannon that Whizzer has ADHD in this verse so you see some of that too.

“Why hello there Mr. Lazar, how are you today?” The doctor said, a large smile plastered on his face. 

“I prefer being called Whizzer.” Whizzer said, crossing his arms and raising his chin up in defiance. The doctors face didn’t change, it just made Whizzer more confused. 

He didn’t want to be in this room, with it’s horrible off-white walls and stupid comics about being positive and stuff like that. His dad was forcing him to go here after his mom went on and on about his “homosexual ways”. His dad tried to explain why it was wrong, to him but Whizzer didn’t really get it. 

He was only eight years old, the idea of dating someone or being interested in them was foreign and uninteresting. But what was wrong with noting that Tommy Falk had a nice face or that Johnny Anderson had a cute smile and an even nicer laugh. 

But when he told his mom and dad these revelations his mom just started screaming, and screaming, and she didn’t stop, and then his dad was pulling him out of the room and a week later he was thrown into a room with this stupid doctor and his fake smile. 

“Whizzer huh? Weird name.” The doctor said, writing something down on his notepad. Whizzer wanted to take it and read whatever he was writing. It was rude to keep secrets right? He fidgeted with his sleeve, trying to look over at the paper but failing. He quickly gave up.

“My friends nicknamed me it because I’m the fastest kid on the baseball team.” Whizzer replied, somewhat proud of his accomplishment. 

The doctor made an uninterested noise and Whizzer deflated a bit. But the disappointment didn’t last long and he quickly forgot about it. Going to study the room a bit more as he wiggled in his seat. The room was boring though, plain and hard to look at so he instead went back to looking at the doctor. 

“What’s your name?” He blurted out, despite knowing that he wasn’t suppose to talk out of turn, he was always bad at that rule. “I told you mine so it’s only fair you tell me yours.” He defended, in case the man was wondering. 

“Doctor Elfiki.” The man said, not looking up. “Your mom said that she wanted me to talk about some recent issues considering- “

“Homosexuality.” Whizzer interrupted. “My mom thinks I’m queer and she told me you’re here to change that. I don’t know how or why though, so I would be glad if you could explain that to me. There’s a lot of things I don’t understand, like math, or why mommy is making such a big deal out of this.”

The doctor cleared his voice, and Whizzer cut himself off, forcing himself to focus on the man. Focusing was hard, there was just so many different things always pulling his mind in multiple different directions, it was unfair to only think about one. 

“Yes, your mom asked me to talk to you about some recent concerns about you displaying homosexual tendencies. It’s always good to nip these thoughts in the bud.” Doctor Elfiki said, plastering on his smile again. Whizzer opened him mouth to talk but instead shut it, ready to show just how well he could focus on what he was saying. 

“Do you have any questions?” The doctor prompted, sensing something wrong. 

“What is wrong with being a homo? People are always saying it’s really bad but no one tells me why. Or what it is really. Why am I here? What are you going to do to me?” He asked in rapid fire, trying to get them all out in time. 

Did he have a limit? His dad said he shouldn’t ask more than three questions because it tended to annoy people. Whizzer didn’t like that rule, but he tried to follow it because mom didn’t like all his questions. 

“Homosexuality is a sin Whizzer.” The doctor said seriously, and Whizzer watched him. He knew sins were bad, some of the worst things you could do according to his mom. “It is an unnatural thing that goes again the rules of nature and god. A lot of people are homosexuals, but they are wrong. Thankfully you mother caught this early so I can help stop it.”

“How do you stop it?” Whizzer asked, and the doctor frowned at him. 

“I was getting to that, try not to interrupt me again.” He said sternly, and Whizzers eyes widened and he bit his lip, fiddling with the corner of his shirt sleeve to keep himself occupied. 

He could do this. He just had to focus. Not get distracted, focus really hard on the way Doctor Elfiki’s lips were moving and the sounds coming from it and not say anything. Not a word out of him. He was to stay completely and utterly quiet to show him just how good he could be and-

“Did you hear a single thing I just said?” The doctor snapped, and Whizzer blinked. 

“Nope.” He replied honestly, his cheeks stained slightly red. The doctor sighed and carefully wrote something down on his notepad. 

“I will repeat it once more, please focus.” The doctor said slowly, like Whizzer was some idiot. He wasn’t an idiot, he just wasn’t good at focusing or listening or stuff like that. 

“I am going to start with simple things and questions about your childhood and other trauma’s you went through- “

“Trauma?” He asked, wrinkling his nose up is confusion. “I never went through any trauma.”

“Chances are you did Whizzer, but I will get into that later.” The doctor said, and Whizzer was glad he wasn’t annoyed that he interrupted him. It was a mistake. 

“As I was saying, after that I will be attempting electroshock therapy on you, mild but effective. After that you should be cured of this disorder, and if not we will keep continuing treatment until I deem you cured. If we get along this should go smoothly.” Elfiki said, putting his notebook down. Whizzer stared at it, it was a really nice clipboard. 

It was brown but the clip on it was a nice silver and it reflected the light and he would very much enjoy one like that. 

“Whizzer?” The doctor said sharply, and he looked up, slightly worried that the doctor was mad at him. He didn’t like people getting mad at him, his mom, his teachers, now the doctor too? “I think I might also have to treat you for an attention disorder of some sort.” The doctor continued, and Whizzer blinked. 

“What’s that?” He asked, kicking his legs back and forth. “It doesn’t sound nice. Do I have it? Is it something bad?” He asked, mentally counting the number of questions. Three, just like his dad said. 

His dad talked to him a lot about how he was suppose to act here, he was suppose to be himself, but also not lie or be rude or anything like that. His dad seemed more nervous than he was, although his dad was always nervous so that wasn’t saying a lot. 

“We can talk about that later.” The doctor sighed, glancing up at the clock. “Shall we get started?” He asked, and Whizzer felt like he didn’t really have a choice. 

An hour later, after they were done their first session, Whizzer decided he didn’t want to go back anytime soon. Doctor Elfiki had kept asking him strange questions, questions about his dad mostly. If his dad didn’t spend enough time with him, if his dad spent too much time with him. If his dad every touched him in places he didn’t want him to, and if so to point to the stupid little doll to show where. Whizzer hated them all. 

His dad wouldn’t do anything like that. Whizzer knew that much, he wasn’t stupid. His dad didn’t touch him in wrong places or smother him in affection, he wasn’t some deadbeat who spent all his time drinking or working or stuff like that. His dad was a good man, Whizzer loved his dad. He told the stupid doctor that much. 

An appointment was scheduled for the next week, much to Whizzer’s distain, and him and his dad left, Whizzer chatting on and off about whatever caught his eye. 

______________________

A month later and four sessions of silly questions and long boring talks, Doctor Elfiki claimed that it was time for stage two. 

The doctor also diagnosed him with a thing called “ADHD” along with some silly little bad tasting pill he had to take. He hadn’t actually tried the pill, so he didn’t know what it tasted like, but he was guessing it tasted it. 

The doctor claimed it would help him focus on things and stop fidgeting and stuff like that. Whizzer didn’t know what to think about that. Sure, he did have trouble focusing. School was hard to pay attention in, and he always bounced from project to project and subject to subject, but it wasn’t all that bad. He just had a lot of energy, energy that he worked off while doing baseball and running and all those fun sports his dad was obsessed with him doing. And if he put off so many activities that he knew he needed to do, well that wasn’t his fault. He was just so busy and he told himself he’d do it later. 

This pill, Adderall he remembered, was supposed to calm him down and help him focus, become more normal. Whizzer wasn’t sure he wanted to be normal anymore if it meant changing every aspect of himself. Being normal didn’t sound like too much fun. 

But maybe if he did this than the kids at school would see him as something other than the weird kid who didn’t pay attention in class, the kid who was always in motion and always talking and disturbing them. Maybe they would talk to him more, include him more. That would be nice. 

Either way, he was dreading this meeting. 

Doctor Elfiki had also diagnosed him as being a homosexual, and was doing everything in his power to stop it. It was apparently now time to approach a more hands on experience. He had explained to him everything about electroshock therapy and it didn’t sound like fun. Basically he would be strapped into a chair with wire attached to him, shocking him whenever he had a supposed homosexual thought. 

Whizzer was currently clutching onto his mom's’ hand terrified to enter the room and start his new round of therapy. He hated the first one enough, the questions and accusations were horrible, made him feel like someone was digging into his mind and roaming around in places they shouldn’t be. 

But this was a whole new level that he really didn’t want to do. 

A nurse came out, a bland smile on her face as she smiled down at him. 

“Whizzer? Can you follow me?” She asked, her voice dripping in sugar. 

“Mommy I don’t want to.” He whispered, looking up at his mom, who stared down at him with an expressionless face. 

“You’ll be fine.” She said, releasing his hand and shoving him towards the nurse, who grabbed him before he could squirm away. The nurse dragged him into the room, and Whizzer gave up resisting, knowing it wasn’t worth it. 

Doctor Elfiki was in the room, sitting at a desk beside a terrifying looking chair with multiple wires coming out of it and it looked scary and big and Whizzer really didn’t want to be there. 

But he held him tongue, because Doctor Elfiki said that he needed to learn how to be respectful. So he followed Doctor Elfiki’s instructions and sat down in the chair, the wires quickly being attached to his hands and arms and then the nurses were telling him to relax and calm down. 

He didn’t remember much after that other than the questions, images and pain. The shock rattled him to the core, pain filling his mind and fogging it up until thoughts were hard to make, and then he was being escorted back to him mom. Confusion and pain blanketed his thoughts and soon he was back in bed, his dad ruffling his hair and promising everything was going to be alright. 

Three more sessions later and Whizzer felt like an entirely different person. He was placed on his medication, which really wasn’t that bad. It did help him calm down, helped him become a lot more productive. But along with the now clear mind came the fear. The fogginess after sessions, the constant pain in his hands and arms, the uncontrollable shaking, the fear. Sometimes, right after a session his memory would be shaking, draining away from him like sand through his hands. 

Every time the time came for another session the fear would become uncontrollable, he would cry, scream, fight back with everything he had. He didn’t want this, this fear, the difference inside his mind, the fogginess inside his mind. 

After three months of constant electroshock therapy, his dad came into his room late one night. 

“Daddy?” Whizzer asked, his brain still foggy with sleep and the constant frost covering it since his sessions. “What are you doing?” 

“We’re leaving.” His dad said quietly, pulling out a suitcase from under Whizzer’s bed. “Your mom is insane, she refuses to stop your therapy. So instead I’m taking you away.” His dad explained. 

“But therapy is helping me? I thought you wanting my disorders gone?” He asked, still blurry from sleep. 

“Yes, but not at the price of you Whiz.” His dad whispered, getting up and gathering his son in his arms. “I love you for you, and this stupid therapy stuff is ruining what makes you special. I want my son, not some mock parody.” He whispered into Whizzer’s hair. 

Whizzer was confused, but he didn’t say anything, not wanting to upset his father anymore. Instead, his father grabbed their bags and snuck out the front door, leaving behind his mom, the doctor, the therapy, the fear. 

Whizzer was suppose to be grateful, happy that his torture was done, that he never had to go through that again. But currently, all he could feel was empty. 

__________________________

Over a couple decades later, Whizzer sat in his apartment alone, staring at the wall with a bottle of whiskey in his hand. Memories were surfacing constantly, and he gave up trying to push them down, to restrict them like he normally did. 

Instead he remembered what the shocks felt like zipping down his spine, how the pain and fear affected his mind and body. He remembered foggy visions of the doctor’s face, despite not remembering his name or anything else about him. He gripped the glass harder, straining his mind to see past the horrible images and focus on the bright things of his childhood. 

But he couldn’t. Everything was foggy, a blanket draped over the memories. He couldn’t remember what his mom looked like, what she sounded like, really anything before the age of eight when his father stole him away in the night. 

Whizzer felt the tears welling up in his eyes, his hands shaking so much he couldn’t even take a sip of his drink. Instead, he slammed the drink into the wall, the glass shattering and spreading the amber liquid across the wall. 

He screamed into his hands, muffling the sound slightly. 

Tears ran down his face, the memories of a mocking laugh, a condescending voice, tasteless pills and electricity running through him. He stumbled through the house, into the bathroom and his hands scrambling towards his pill bottle. 

His shaking hand grabbed it, and after five frustrating minutes he finally managed to unscrew it and threw back two more pills, hoping for the calming effect to take ahold of him. 

In the meantime he slammed them back down, scrubbing at his face until his cheeks hurt and slamming his fist into the wall, the pain distracting him from the flashbacks. He slid to the floor, hugging his knees to his chest and ignoring the pain and sorrow. 

He had to get himself together, Marvin could be home any moment now, and Whizzer needed to be calm for him. Put up his walls so Marvin couldn’t see what a freak he was, how horrible and messed up he truly was behind his hundreds of walls. 

The Adderall took over soon after, calming his nerves and slowly down his heartbeat. He knew he wasn’t suppose to take any more than two that day, but he took his normal dosage earlier that morning so he should be okay. His hands slowly stopped shaking and he was finally able to get everything under control. 

He then scrubbed at the stain on the wall, cleaning up the glass until there was no evidence of his breakdown anywhere in the apartment. 

Then he sat down on the couch, stared at the wall and waited for Marvin to get home.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll tell you this now, this chapter too me a while because I was busy being in shock from the Queliot content in The Magicians lmao whoops

Work was hell. 

Whizzer would gladly scream that from the highest building in New York over and over again. If he had to deal with one more god damn middle-aged man thinking he knew his job better than him than he was literally going to punch them.

Just one hit, right to the face to shut their horribly condescending voice up. If he was straight he would screw their wives just to get back at them. Because on top of those assholes were always the extremely desperate housewife that was practically throwing herself at him. 

It was tiring, horrible and sometimes he wondered why he kept doing these portraits. It couldn’t be for the crappy pay. 

He sighed, grabbing the paper that was shoved into Marvin and his mail slot and shoved his way inside, tossing the paper onto the table without a thought. 

He turned on the light, carefully hanging up his jacket and placing his shoes by the door. He ran a hand through his hair, quickly setting the pot of water to boil and grabbing a tea bag. He then just wandered around the apartment, not really sure what to do while waiting. 

The water boiled in around a minute or so, and he carefully poured it into the cup, dipping the tea bag a few times before leaving it to steep, sitting at the table and pulling the paper towards him, crossing his legs. 

He flipped through it non-committedly, just skimming over the boring stories and pictures. He absentmindedly, grabbed his tea, raising it to his mouth as his eyes wandered over the personal ads. 

A single picture caught his eye, an image of an older man, with grey hair and a goatee, smiling into the camera. But there was something off about him, a glint in his eyes that Whizzer distantly remembers. Like a face in a dream. He looks closer, inspecting the face before his eyes flickered back over to the name. 

Piece click inside his mind, striking against the back of his head like a hammer. He wants to look away, but his eyes wouldn’t cooperate, his mind moving a million times faster than normal to connect the dots. 

The memories hit him soon after. 

_“Don’t worry Whizzer.” The doctor cooed, strapping the last electrode down and grabbing Whizzer’s chin. The Doctors finger prodded at his jaw, finding the pressure points that made it impossible for the stubborn eight-year-old to continue clenching his teeth. The doctor shoved the mouthguard in before Whizzer could stop him. “You know the drill.”_

_The doctor smiled, petting back Whizzer’s hair in what almost looked like a loving way. But Whizzer knew the drill, the fake comfort so that the man would feel better about what he was doing. Convince himself that this was all for Whizzer’s good._

_But Whizzer gave up that idea a long time ago. He just wanted the pain to go away. He didn’t care about being homosexual anymore. He was willing to do anything to get this to stop. The constant disorientation, the fear, the pain._

_He just wanted it to stop._

_But the doctor was walking away again, over to the machine and flicking a switch._

_Then all Whizzer knew was pain, small jolt of it as obscene images were flash in front of his eyes. But he didn’t even look at them, couldn’t over the feeling of sparks filling his veins, crawling into his mind and eating him out, purging him of his thoughts and feelings. Then the fear, everytime the current was shut off the moment was filled with the fear of getting the next round, the next moment of pain._

_The pain would flicker on and off until disappearing, leaving him panting and sore, tears running down his cheeks._

_Doctor Elfiki was in front of him again, unhooking the electrodes and telling him how good he was being. Whizzer looked up at the man, his heart heavy and mind muddled._

_He just wanted all of this to stop._

The cup of tea fell from his fingers, crashing down onto his lap and startling him from his flashback, the hot liquid staining his clothes. He jumped up, grabbing the cup and placing it back on the table, his hands shaking. He clenched them into fists, shoving them against his mouth to stop his gasping breaths. 

He reached forwards on autopilot, grabbing the picture and tearing it out of the paper, crumbling it up into a ball. He wanted to throw it out, get rid of the image of the vile man but something stopped him.

He stumbled into the bedroom, tearing open his closet and grabbing some new pants, tearing off his stained ones and quickly running to the washroom, pulling the news ones on. The paper was still wrapped in his hand and he slammed the door shut, locking it even though he was alone in the house. Marvin shouldn’t be home for at least another hour, maybe more.

Whizzer stood in the bathroom swaying slightly, lightheaded as he stood in the too bright room. 

He could feel the phantom pain sneaking up his spine, bolts of electricity running up and down his limbs. The smell of the antiseptic they used in the room to clean it, the feel of gloved hands clipping the electrodes to his skin. 

His heart was practically beating out of his chest, pounding what felt like a thousand miles per hour. His hands moved to grab his pills, not exactly sure what he was going to do with it but simply needing it in his hands. Another reminder of that time, a reminder that he was here in the present, not sitting in that chair. 

He stumbled down to his knees, scooting himself until his back hit the wall, wedged between the bath and the wall. He stared at the blank wall, fighting back the memories and images pushing at his eyes. His head was pounding, a headache forming behind his eyes. 

He could feel the paper still folded in his hands, biting into his skin. He squeezed it tighter, the sting of the paper cutting into his skin helping him distinguish the difference between reality and the cruelty of his own mind. 

He slammed his arm back, hitting the wall with a dull thud. The pain was instant, rippling up his forearms and making him wince. 

He took a deep breath, staring at the wall. 

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, staring at the wall and working to push the memories of the shocks, the invasive pictures, the pills shoved down his throat. 

The next thing he remembered was the front door closing, Marvin calling out his name. 

_______________________

“Whizzer! I’m home!” Marvin called out from across the apartment, walking in through the door. 

He had just finished working, and he was looking forwards to spending a nice quiet night with his lover. They had been together again for almost four months now, and they cherished the quiet nights spend sitting on the couch cuddling and just enjoying each others company. 

“Whizzer?” He asked when his lover did not immediately appear. Glancing over, he saw that the man’s boots and jacket were there, so he was definitely still in the building. Maybe he was with the lesbians, or taking a shower, or sleeping. 

Marvin carefully hung up his jacket, walking inside to search around. 

“Whiz?” He asked, checking the kitchen and living room for any signs of him. The news paper was sitting on the table, looking almost like it was ripped, and an empty cup of tea was on the table, abandoned with the tea bag still inside.

There was no Whizzer, so he continued on towards the bedroom. 

He opened the door, peaking in and flickering on the light. There was no sign of Whizzer, but the room was a mess. The closet doors were open, clothes thrown on the ground carelessly like someone was in a hurry to find something. The bathroom door was shut, but Marvin could see the light pouring out of it. 

“Whizzer?” He asked, stepping towards the door, a bit apprehensive to what he might find inside. 

He knocked on it softly, but heard no reply. Listening closer, he could hear someone inside, breathing heavily. He listened closer, and then he could hear the soft rattle of a pill bottle in someone’s hand. Irrational panic flooded him and he grabbed the doorknob, twisting it and lowering his shoulder to push it open. 

The door was weak, and if you hit it in the right place it would pop right open, locked or not. 

Luckily, he managed to get it open, stumbling into the bathroom and despite almost falling flat on his face, he managed to stay upright. 

His eyes immediately searched and lock onto Whizzer, he was stuffed into the corner where the bath met the wall, his eyes wide with panic and fear. He was breathing heavily, a bottle and some weird paper clutched tightly in his hand. 

“Marv.” He croaked, and his voice was so weak, so scared that Marvin’s heart broke. 

“Whiz.” He replied breathlessly, falling down to his knees and reaching out for his lover. “What’s wrong?” Are you okay?” He asked, staring into Whizzer’s brown eyes. 

Because he was looking at Whizzer, it was easy to see the change. To see the moment when his eyes shuttered and went dead, his face go from almost tearful to a blank mask. He could see Whizzer raise his shoulder, clench his fists even harder. 

“Nothing, I’m fine. Pretend this never happened.” Whizzer said, shaking his head and brushing off Marvin’s hands, climbing unsteadily to his feet. 

Marvin scrambled to his feet, reaching out to stabilize Whizzer who swayed a little. Whizzer pushed his hands away, looking mad. 

But Marvin knew the truth, the anger Whizzer was projecting was a mask. It hid the barely there man behind it, the man who was scared and shaking and who was hovering on the edge. 

“What drugs did you take? Are they safe?” Marvin asked, reaching towards the pill container in his lovers’ hand. 

He knew all about Whizzers mysterious pills. Charlotte delivered them monthly, without any labels and refusing to tell Marvin anything. And before that Whizzer would leave for a night and then come back all messed up and tired but holding he pills tight. 

“Their nothing. I'm fine.” whizzer snapped, pushing Marvin away. 

“Your shaking.” Marvin pointed out, following his lover out of the washroom. “You can tell me anything Whizzer. I just want to know id your okay.” He coaxed. 

Whizzer turned, slamming his hand onto Marvin’s chest, the piece of paper in his fist hitting Marvin’s chest. 

“Thought I should keep my sob story to myself.” Whizzer said sarcastically his voice breaking slightly as he stormed from the room.

Marvin stood in shock, holding the paper in his hands and staring at the door. He waited for the slam of the front door, but it never came. Which meant Whizzer was still in the apartment. He still had a shot at this. 

He looked down, uncrumpling the paper Whizzer shoved at him. It appeared to be an add in the paper. 

On it was an extremely old man, probably in his late seventies’ early eighties, smiling at the camera. The words “DOCTOR ELFIKI SPECIALTY CONVERSION THERAPIST” 

Marvin got a bad taste in his mouth sitting on the bed to mull this over. 

Whizzer was seemingly upset over this picture of this doctor. He also said that line, the one Marvin distantly remembered using a long time ago. 

If only he could just remember to context of the statement. 

It clicked a second later, remembering the fight he and Whizzer had after Whizzer talked to Jason about a therapist.

He remembered being so mad, screaming in Whizzers face after Whizzer gave Jason his advice instead of just telling the kid to go. 

He was talking about his own personal experience with a therapist. Talking about electroshock therapy. Marvin had always had a hunch it was really about-

“Shit.” He muttered looking down at the ad with a newfound hate. 

He jumped off the bed, walking into the living room where Whizzer was sitting on the couch, staring angrily at the wall. 

He sat down next to his lover, his heart beating wildly as he placed the paper in front of Whizzer on the table. Whizzers eyes flickered down to it before going to Marvin then to the wall. 

“How old were you?” Marvin asked quietly, sitting far enough that Whizzer had his space but could also reach out to Marvin at any moment. 

The silence stretched on for a long time, and Marvin was starting to worry Whizzer really wouldn’t answer. 

“I was eight.” Whizzer finally whispered, and Marvin nodded, blinking back tears of sympathy. 

Eight. Only eight years old. Barely even old enough to understand what was going on in the world but suddenly being thrown into this horrible practice. 

“Why?” Marvin asked. The silence stretched on again.

“My mom preferred it when I didn’t talk about guys. At the time I didn’t get why she hated me so much for something that was so natural. But I get it now. It was a lot easier to deal with a traumatized and silent kid then it was to deal with a queer one.” Whizzer replied, his voice bitter. 

“I'm sorry.” Marvin whispered, watching as Whizzer clenched his hands together when they started to slightly shake. 

“Don’t be.” Whizzer said with a chilling laugh. “Not like I remember much. They fried my brain too much for that.”

Marvin couldn’t help it anymore, he reached forwards, grabbing Whizzer and pulling him into his arms, needing to lend his support, his comfort. 

Whizzer stayed still for a moment, before slowly wrapping his arms around Marvin, nuzzling his head into Marvin’s neck. 

Marvin sound feel Whizzer’s hand gripping the back of his shirt, the shakiness to them as they trembled against his back. He could feel the stutter in Whizzer’s breathing as Whizzer fought through the oncoming panic. He could feel every sign of Whizzer becoming undone, and he wasn’t a fan of it. 

“What happened?” He whispered, stroking Whizzers hair. 

“It was in the paper. And I recognized him and I just started panicking, and then the memories flooded in.” Whizzer whispered, his voice muffled into Marvin’s neck. “I’m sorry for ruining your night, I thought I would be fine by the time you got home.”

“Don’t worry about that. You didn’t ruin anything.” Marvin scolded. “All I want is you. It doesn’t matter if your feeling good or spiralling into panic, I just want to be with you.” 

Whizzer laughed, but Marvin could feel him start to relax, let the edge of panic drift away from him as they lay there. 

“I love you.” Marvin muttered into Whizzer’s hair, content and at peace. 

There was a long pause, Marvin’s heart skipping a beat when he realized what he just said. They hadn’t said that to each other yet, not in a true declaration. Marvin was waiting until Whizzer was ready, able to handle that kind of commitment. 

“I mean, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have-“ Marvin started, trying to fix what he may have just broken. 

“I love you too.” Whizzer whispered, cutting him off. Marvin felt emotion climb up his throat, the pocket inside him chest aching with love and devotion to the man in his arms. Whizzer looked up at him, and there was something on Whizzer’s face, something so soft and real. Marvin knew for sure that it was love. Pure and true love. 

He leaned down, capturing Whizzer’s lips with his and kissing him softly, a kiss filled with love and passion. A kiss that made Marvin feel sparks down his fingertips and warmth in his chest.

They broke apart, staring into each other eyes and Whizzer laughed, kissing Marvin’s nose. 

“You’re a sap.” He muttered, leaning down and putting his head onto Marvin’s chest, his eyes fluttering closed. 

Marvin found he didn’t have a response, instead leaning back and closing his eyes, cherishing the rare quiet moment between the two of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of hate this chapter? But oh well
> 
> Either way, I think this is where I'm going to end this story for now unless I get any other ideas. I might make another story similar to this but focusing mostly on Whizzer's ADD and how he deals with that. But only if some people want to see that. EIther way, leave a comment and let me know what y'all think about this story!

**Author's Note:**

> Do you guys want me to write more? I've been debating writing a second part, maybe with Marvin being less of an asshole and actually listening and allowing Whizzer to talk about hsi trauma? Or maybe write a bit about his actual therapy or the downwards spiral I glossed over during the end? Idk is that something you would want to read?


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